


a stampede couldn't break me in my stride

by acanaceous



Series: you got nothing if you ain't got pride [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, dont worry about the timeline here no really please dont, foggy absolutely does not get paid enough for this, the avengers are mentioned but do not appear, the nespresso machine is basically its own character, which is pretty sad since he's technically self employed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27605203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acanaceous/pseuds/acanaceous
Summary: Nelson & Murdock, LLP, hires a paralegal. He's not the strangest guy Foggy's ever met, but he's having a hard time thinking of someone stranger.
Relationships: Karen Page & Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester & Foggy Nelson, Sam Winchester & Matt Murdock
Series: you got nothing if you ain't got pride [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018684
Comments: 10
Kudos: 79





	a stampede couldn't break me in my stride

**Author's Note:**

> i do not know anything about supernatural or daredevil and i do not want to know anything about spn or daredevil. however this is all just so very 2020 i figured it might as well exist

I.

Foggy, after a brief discussion with Matt, puts a job opening for a paralegal at Nelson & Murdock LLP up on Linkedin. (The discussion goes more or less as follows:

“Matt, we need a paralegal.”

“What for? We have Karen.”

“Matt. We’re getting a paralegal.”)

Since nothing is ever easy in Foggy’s life, possibly because the universe in general and God specifically has it out for him and more likely because it is a Google-able fact that Nelson & Murdock’s finances are more or less held together by duct tape and barely enough to keep the lights on (to say nothing of paying a paralegal’s salary), for the first four days not a soul applies for the job or even so much as writes a preliminary email. Every day for those four days, without fail, Matt manages to toss in a smug “So, Foggy, are we getting a paralegal or what?”, knowing full well that the denizens of Foggy’s Linkedin circles are all apparently too smart to sign onto the train wreck that he likes to call a career.

All of which to say, when someone finally applies for the job on the fifth day, Foggy is just about ready to hire the guy without so much as glancing at the resume. When he does, though -- the guy’s name is Samuel Campbell, Stanford grad, class of ’05. Good start. As it turns out, the resume only goes downhill from there.

“This is,” Matt says when Foggy shows him the application. Foggy waits for a second to see if he’s going to finish the sentence, but apparently Matt intends ‘this is’ to be a complete thought. Which it is. Foggy knows exactly what he means.

“I know,” he says. “I mean, what was this guy even doing for—for more than a decade between when he graduated from Stanford and now? The work history is a complete blank, did he take a hike in the Adirondacks and just forget to come back until last month?”

“He didn’t even graduate,” Matt corrects him. “He dropped out in his last semester.”

“Eh, close enough in my book. Basically every other Stanford guy drops out halfway through and makes like eight times my salary anyways, so who am I to judge.”

Matt shrugs. “Still. Technically no degree, and no work history. Sure you’re not getting catfished, Foggy?”

Foggy is actually not totally sure he isn’t being catfished. People don’t catfish people on Linkedin. He thinks? “Maybe this paralegal thing was a bad idea.”

Matt shrugs again, contrary bastard that he is. “Well, he’s applied. I don’t think we’re drowning in applicants at the moment. We might as well interview him.”

II.

They schedule an interview for 3:30 the next Thursday. Foggy is nominally researching precedent for their current case that afternoon, but by 2:40 he’s mostly given up on being productive and succumbed to the fact that he is the type of person who gets deeply, deeply anxious before extremely insignificant social engagements. He shoots a text to an old high school buddy of his who did pre-law at Stanford in the early 00s, Hey Mitch ! Hope you’re doing well. This might be a long shot but did you know a Sam Campbell in college by any chance? LMK. We should catch up next time you’re in the city. He debates adding a smiley face emoji, adds it just to see how it looks, and then deletes it before he sends the text out of respect for his professional pride if nothing else.

Campbell shows up five minutes early, ducking under the door frame (man, this guy is tall) with a puppyish, unassuming half-smile on his face. “Hi,” he says, looking around their office space, “You guys must be Nelson and Murdock, and...”

“Page,” Karen supplies. “I’m Karen Page, secretary – you can call me Karen.”

“Hi, Karen,” Campbell says, the smile turning shy in a way that is just unfairly endearing on a guy who’s easily at least 6’3” and could probably bench press Foggy’s mother.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Sam.”

Bad Karen, Foggy thinks. No flirting with the potential hires.

He shoots a glance over at Matt, who’s watching them with an expression that Foggy knows means he’s warming up to the idea of having a paralegal by the second, for entertainment value if nothing else. That’s just like Matt, to switch his opinion just to be contrary as Foggy is starting to think maybe this paralegal thing was a bad idea after all.

Campbell is charming, anyways, as they get down to the job interview. He seems to know his stuff. He’s a smart guy, if oddly evasive about his past. They get about this much out of him: “Yeah, I didn’t end up graduating. I was planning to apply to law school, actually, after, but... I guess life kinda got in the way. I had to drop out to attend to some family business, and I guess I just. Never really got back around to it.”

Foggy can read between the lines, sort of, although he suspects that Matt’s getting a lot more out of this than he is. Some type of family trouble, the kind that sucks you in and spits you back out a lot older, a lot more tired. Campbell’s trying to get his life back on track, which Foggy can respect. So, hey, fishy backstory or not, maybe having a paralegal wouldn’t be so bad.

They wrap up the interview, Matt shakes the guys hand and gives him a perfunctory “Thanks for coming in – we’ll shoot you an email in the next couple of days, and please feel free to contact us if you have any questions.”

Once Campbell leaves, Matt joins him by the office Nespresso machine, which is currently making a lot of noise and not a lot of coffee. “So, what do you think?”

“Well,” Foggy says, “we do need a paralegal.” His phone buzzes – it’s Mitch. Matt makes a questioning noise, and Foggy reads it out to him. “Aw, bust – I was hoping Mitch, you remember Mitch, might know the guy from Stanford but it looks like they never crossed paths. _No, sorry Foggy, I don’t think we ever met. Only Sam in any of my classes was Sam Winchester_.” At the end of the text Mitch had written ‘lol’. Maybe Foggy should have sent that smiley face after all?

“Oh well,” Matt says. “Big school, I guess.”

“What’d you think?” Foggy asks. “You know, with your—” He wiggles his eyebrows in a way that more or less signifies ‘superpowers’, which is probably lost on Matt but is understood well enough through context.

Matt thinks for a second, and then says, “He didn’t lie about anything. There was stuff he wasn’t talking about, sure, but he didn’t lie. In any case, if he was a serial killer I think I’d know.”

“Woah, woah, serial killer?”

“I was making a joke, Foggy. You know... like, Sam Winchester...” At Foggy’s clear confusion, Matt elaborates. “He and his brother were on the FBI’s most wanted for a while before they died. They were a serial killer team... very wild west. Have you really never heard of them? What kind of a rock do you life under?”

Foggy shrugs. “Not really my wheelhouse.” He pauses, and then says, “Well, that’s Stanford guys for you. Want to order pizza?”

III.

Foggy doesn’t google Sam Winchester until the next Monday, after they’ve already emailed back and forth with Campbell and he’s set to start his first day in about ten minutes. When he does... oh, man. Oh, this is just such a Nelson & Murdock thing to happen. Oh boy, does the universe have it out for him, Foggy Nelson, specifically. “Fuck my life,” Foggy says, Campbell’s mugshot staring back at him from Google images.

“What’s up?” Karen asks.

“Uhhh. I think you’d better come see this. Matt, you too.”

Karen walks behind him to peer over his shoulder, and when she sees the picture says, “Oh – ohhhh. Oh man. I knew he looked familiar, and not just because he’s cute.”  
The two of them contemplate Foggy’s phone for a minute. This is so typical. Just their luck. Of course the new paralegal is a serial killer. Matt, slightly annoyed, asks “So is anyone going to fill me in...?”

“Uh.” Foggy says. “Um, our new paralegal? He is Sam Winchester.”

Of course, that’s when Sam Campbell says from the doorway, “Um... am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all,” Matt supplies smoothly and walks forward in front of Foggy and Karen. “Actually, before you get started, we have. A second interview.”

“A second interview?” Sam echoes.

“Uh. Yes,” Matt says. More firmly, he continues, “A second interview. Now if you would just follow me into my office, we can get started,” and leads their new serial killer paralegal into the back room.

Through the frosted glass it looks like the two of them are sitting down and, well, talking. Foggy looks at Karen. Karen shrugs. Well, Matt is a vigilante-slash-superhero. He can probably handle an evil paralegal. Foggy goes to make some coffee for himself and Karen, turns the Nespresso machine on and then realizes that they only have decaf pods left. “FML,” he says, and then makes some coffee anyways since he figures the psychosomatic effect is better than nothing.

“FML?” Karen laughs. “Dude, did you really just say the acronym out loud? You luddite.”

“I don’t think that’s what a luddite is,” Foggy says sourly, and sips his decaf coffee. It does not taste good.

Matt steps out of his office, Campbell half a step behind. “It’s fine,” he tell them.

Foggy waits for clarification that never comes. “What?”

“We worked it out. It’s fine. He wasn’t guilty, anyways. So... meet our new paralegal, Sam.” Sam waves. Foggy opens his mouth to protest, but Matt mutters “We’ll talk later.” as he brushes by. Karen, who never takes kindly to being left out of the loop, gives Foggy a look that he knows means she expects the full scoop as soon as he gets it.  
So that’s how they get a paralegal. He’s presumed dead, formerly an alleged serial killer (framed, though, apparently), and as it turns out very good at his job. Well, whatever. They’ve had stranger hires.

IV.

There’s no real moment when Campbell figures out Matt is Daredevil. Never really brings it up, either, aside from one night when the four of them are staying late to prepare for a deposition when he asks, “So. Daredevil, huh?” Matt nods and makes a vaguely affirming grunt. Campbell nods back. And as far as Foggy can tell, that’s the end of that.  
Matt and Campbell get along great, incidentally. Both being repressed Catholics is apparently a solid basis for a friendship, or at least a friendly working relationship. It helps that Matt moonlights in beating people up, vigilante-style, and Campbell apparently has a past full of beating things/evil creepy-crawlies up, also vigilante-style.

The creepy-crawlies thing, Foggy is still mentally unpacking. It’s not like he didn’t know the world was a lot bigger and scarier and weirder than he might’ve thought, but when Foggy thought “weird” he thought mutants and superpowers and alien gods bent on conquering Earth as a—well, okay, actually, never mind. Not that much weirder. Anyways, Campbell was pretty vague about the whole thing, but what he’d given Matt had been enough to convince him and Foggy generally trusts Matt’s instincts.

Karen, meanwhile, seems to have taken it upon herself to pry Campbell’s life story out of him. Foggy learns, more through the fact that the offices of Nelson & Murdock LLP are not especially spacious than through any real desire to gossip about the new hire’s secrets, the following facts: Campbell has a brother (also could have learned that one from the wanted posters), the brother has a boyfriend, the brother is straight (“It’s complicated. Uh, think of it like this. I have absolutely no desire to know anything about Dean’s sex life and I have absolutely no interest in helping him through his sexuality crisis. As far as I’m concerned, he and Cas can figure it out on their own.”), and yes, ghosts are in fact real and they can in fact kill you unless you salt and burn their bones before you yourself become one, yes, werewolves are also real, actually this one time Dean and I were out on a hunt and we found—It goes on in this length for some time. It turns out that Karen was a Folklore and Mythology minor in college and quickly abandons chasing after Campbell’s tragic backstory in favor of picking his brain on every supernatural creature under the sun.

This is all very intellectually interesting to Foggy, mind you, but it’s definitely not helping his plan to avoid knowing as much as he can about Campbell. He’s already got enough crazy in his life with Matt, and whatever kind of supernatural crazy Campbell carries with him is something that Foggy absolutely does not need or want.

In truth he has already resigned himself to the fact that Campbell’s crazy is now definitely a part of his life, but hey, denial’s not just a river in Egypt.

Foggy goes to make himself another cup of coffee. Nespresso in the office is one of the few joys in his life, and he intends to make the most of it regardless of the effect it has on their electricity bill. As he moves to turn it on, Campbell calls out to him, “Oh, I wouldn’t—” which of course is when the machine makes a very bad sound, sparks, and begins leaking hot water all over the counter. “—touch that,” Campbell finishes lamely.

Why, God, why. The Nespresso machine, too? Is nothing sacred?

“Sorry,” Campbell says.

Foggy gives up on trying to mop at the puddle of hot water forming on the countertop as it occurs to him to ask, “Wait, how did you know that was going to happen?”, and is already mentally adding ‘Nespresso-whisperer’ to Campbell’s list of skills.

“I am,” Campbell says delicately, “a little bit psychic.”

“What?”

“Cool,” Karen volunteers.

Matt is still pretending to work, and is making a token effort to try to look surprised. It is not very effective.

“Just a little bit,” Campbell says. “I really wouldn’t worry about it. Barely psychic at all anymore, really.”

Foggy does try not to worry about it, he does. He would feel weird actively worrying about it, anyways. Plenty of people are mutants. His best friend got superpowers from a radioactive car crash. He does kinda feel like the fact that their paralegal is a little bit psychic is something he would have liked to know beforehand, wait, no, bad Foggy, he’s actually not entitled to know things about Campbell’s personal life and it feels like a pretty toxic work environment anyways if he had made Campbell disclose that so you know what yeah never mind it’s fine. Sometimes people are a little bit psychic! And that’s fine. That's fine. This is fine.

V.

Foggy’s campaign to not get mixed up in Campbell’s brand of crazy continues as it began, which is to say, unsuccessfully. It’s definitely hindered by the fact that Foggy just can’t help but like the guy, even if he keeps flirting with Karen. Which, okay, to be fair, Karen can handle herself. Campbell might be a monster hunter of epic proportions, but if it came down to a fight Foggy’s money would be on Karen.

All of which to say, entirely against his will Foggy and Campbell are totally developing a bromance. They are also now officially on first name basis, so Foggy is really trying to shift his internal monologue towards referring to him as ‘Sam’. Campbell—No, bad Foggy, Sam—is just so nice, he can’t _not_ have a bromance with this guy. Refusing to be his friend feels vaguely on the same level as kicking puppies or stealing candy from babies.

Essential parts of their office bromance, of course, includes bitching about superheroes. Sam seems to have mostly lived under a rock in rural Kansas, but is also a complete nerd with encyclopedic knowledge of New York’s hero/vigilante scene. His favorite Avenger is the Hulk and his least favorite is Iron Man, which are both choices Foggy can respect (even though Black Widow is totally the most badass Avenger, by like, miles).

Matt, as midtown’s favorite vigilante, ends up working with the Avengers occasionally. Obviously, this is pretty cool for a couple reasons – first of all, real hero business, great for the Daredevil brand, but more importantly Foggy, Sam, and Karen get to hear all of the Avengers gossip. It’s amazing. They also get to hear about the missions that the Avengers go on whenever they don’t hear it from the news (Matt actually does not willingly tell anyone about his secret hero business, but part of being his best friend is that Foggy is very good at annoying him into spilling the beans). So when things get biblical at Stark Tower, the law office of Nelson & Murdock gets a front row seat.

Well, ‘get biblical’ actually might be a little bit of an overstatement. What actually happens is that SHIELD uncovers a Prophecy with a capital P hidden away in a secret HYDRA base foretelling the Revelations-style fire and brimstone apocalypse, which isn’t really the kind of thing SHIELD can ignore. Angels and demons, apparently, are a thing, which isn’t that much of a stretch after the alien gods but which nevertheless might be sending Matt into a crisis of faith. SHIELD (and the Avengers, and the Sorcerer Supreme who is actually doing most of the work) is hunting down some angel, apparently, because this Thursday guy (the angel, that is) might have a lead on how to stop Michael and Lucifer from destroying the world.

Sam has a weird look on his face as he listens to Matt’s explanation, and when he’s finished says, “Huh. Um, I think, SHIELD might have the wrong idea, a little bit,” because of course this is Sam’s kind of crazy rearing its head. “That apocalypse isn’t really a problem any more. The whole thing was dealt with a while ago, actually. That prophecy is pretty out of date.”

“Huh,” Matt says.

Sam shrugs. “Really, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

So they don’t. Really, Foggy is getting great at this not worrying thing. The train wreck of his life is so anxiety-inducing all the time it basically just cancels out, like PEMDAS. And, you know, if SHIELD drops the whole apocalypse thing about a week later under mysterious circumstances, that’s really none of Foggy’s business.

Sam’s brother and the brother’s boyfriend roll into town not long after, in what Karen tells him is in fact a very nice car. Foggy, a lifelong New Yorker, cannot drive and does not know the breeds of cars. They’re nice people, if not particularly conducive to a productive working environment whenever they drop by the office to visit Sam. If Foggy googles the boyfriend’s name and all the search results return various Christian and dubiously new-age websites about Castiel, the Angel of Thursdays, well, that’s really none of Foggy’s business either.

He makes some coffee for himself and Karen in the office French press, which they bought instead of replacing the Nespresso. It’s better coffee, anyways, and charmingly lo-fi. He brings Karen’s cup to her desk, and they toast. Life, honestly, is pretty good.

**Author's Note:**

> offscreen dean and cas are roadtripping around america, being pursued by various members of the avengers and also the law. imagine, like, road runner and wil e. coyote except wil e coyote is clint barton and road runner has a gun


End file.
